Chapter 12
Once we were in bed, James fell asleep within minutes, making me kick myself all over again. He truly had overdone it tonight. Tomorrow, we needed to take this slower and in shorter stretches.
I lay on my back, listening to his soft, steady breathing, thinking about what he’d told me.
I was still surprised he’d opened up so much.
Sure, he’d held things back, but I understood why.
Some secrets weren’t his to share. It made sense that if the woman he’d been in love with wasn’t from his world, he’d want to protect her.
The more I thought about it, the more surprised I was he’d told me at all.
I couldn’t help wondering who she was and how he’d kept running into her. He’d met her at his pool hall, but they’d crossed paths often enough that they’d eventually fallen for each other.
Someone who wasn’t from his world…
An icy dread washed through me.
He’d called her an innocent.
One woman’s name kept surfacing when I’d dug into James’s recent past, a woman who didn’t make sense in his orbit.
Rose Gardner.
And every time her name came up, James turned defensive, like he was protecting even the mere mention of her name.
I knew in my gut that it had to be her.
James had been in love with Rose Gardner.
I took a moment to take that in. I wasn’t sure why I was so shocked.
From the first time I’d heard her name linked to his, I’d wondered if there’d been something romantic between them.
I’d decided it was too preposterous, but she was a stereotypical good girl, and he’d played the role of the bad boy. It was a tale as old as time.
And yet it still felt like a gut punch.
What decision had she made that ended their relationship? What would have pissed him off—or cut him so deeply—that he’d not only ended things but lit the bridge behind him in a blazing inferno? Had she sided with Jed? Had she fought him on working with Hardshaw?
Maybe both.
There was a photo on James’s fireplace mantel of Jed’s little girl … along with Rose Gardner’s daughter.
Her daughter was four years old.
My breath stuck in my chest. No. My imagination was running wild.
But I couldn’t ignore the fact he had a framed photo of both girls on his mantle. And the timing of the little girl’s age fit too well.
Was that the decision Rose had made that had officially ended their relationship? Had she gotten pregnant and decided to keep the baby? James said he didn’t want children. It could have been a deal breaker.
It was a huge leap—I was making assumptions, but that was how I’d solved a lot of my cases: seeing scattered pieces and figuring out how they fit, even when no one else could.
This felt like a flashing neon sign.
I slid out of bed and moved to the sofa, trying to figure out why this bothered me so much.
Rose was in his past, and he’d said he didn’t love her anymore.
Maybe it was the fact that her name kept popping up, or the possibility that he might have a kid.
I didn’t think I had it in me to be a stepmother.
Then again, from what I could tell, James didn’t have contact with the girl. She had Joe Simmons’s last name.
Still, there was every chance I was wrong about Rose’s daughter.
But there was also a chance I was right.
I grabbed the laptop. I’d done some searches on Rose Gardner a few weeks ago, but I typed in her name again. The articles about her business and her kidnapping by J.R. Simmons came up, but I ignored those and studied the photos instead, reconfirming what I already knew.
She was the complete antithesis of me—wholesome, girl-next-door, with a sheriff husband and a house full of kids on their family farm. She ran a nursery and landscaping business, for God’s sake. You couldn’t be more homespun than that.
Was that what he wanted? Even if he said he didn’t? Was I putting my heart on the line just so it could get broken?
I wasn’t sure I could handle that.
This is only a fling. You’ve told yourself that since the moment you first went to bed with him.
Only, after spending the past week with him, I knew it wasn’t just a fling. James was everything I needed in a man.
But was I everything he needed?
A deep thirst burned in my chest. I wanted a drink so badly I dug my fingernails into my palms. My mouth felt dry, and the minibar across the room taunted me.
One drink wouldn’t hurt. It would take the edge off so I could get some sleep.
But I’d told myself that when I’d started to drink last fall, right up until I finally quit. Just one drink, which turned into two, and before I knew it, I’d downed a pint of whiskey and half a bottle of vodka I’d hidden in my water bottle.
Just one drink was a slippery slope I couldn’t afford.
Still, I needed some kind of release or I was going to crawl out of my skin.
I grabbed some clothes and headed to the bathroom, changing quickly into leggings and a T-shirt, then pulled my hair into a ponytail.
I turned off the light before opening the door, making sure James was still asleep.
Then I grabbed the key card, my phone and earbuds and crept to the door, snagging my shoes on the way out.
Thankfully, the exercise room was open and empty. I pulled up my fast-paced playlist and hopped on the treadmill.
I started out slow, then pushed harder until I was sprinting. I hadn’t exercised in ages, and the wall hit fast, but I kept going, reveling in the burn. I locked onto the lyrics, determined to stop thinking about the woman he’d loved.
It stung that I’d never loved a man.
Focus on the music.
I wasn’t sure how long I ran before I saw him enter the room. Long enough that I was breathless, drenched in sweat, and feeling like I was going to puke.
He stopped a few feet away and said nothing. He just watched me, dark circles carved under his eyes.
A standoff.
I considered ignoring him, but that would be punishment, and he didn’t deserve that. He hadn’t done anything wrong. If anything, I was grateful he’d trusted me enough to open up. The problem wasn’t him. It was me.
I slowed the treadmill to a walk and pulled out my earbuds.
He still didn’t say anything.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I finally said.
“You should’ve told me.”
“I didn’t want to wake you. Besides, I figured you’d either talk me out of it or insist on coming with me.”
“You didn’t even leave a note. I woke up and you were gone.”
“Sorry,” I said, guilt washing over me. “I was craving a drink, and the mini bar was too tempting. This seemed like the best way to deal with it.”
He nodded once. “You still should have told me.”
“I know,” I said, meaning it. “I’m sorry.”
“Do you need to run more?”
I eased the treadmill to a snail’s pace. “No. I just need to cool down.”
He crossed to the glass-front mini-fridge in the corner, grabbed a bottle of water, twisted off the cap, and handed it to me.
I drank half of it in a few gulps. He watched until I set the bottle in the cup holder, then handed me the cap. I screwed it on as he sat on a weight bench a few feet away.
He looked exhausted, and it was my fault.
“You should be in bed,” I said. “Asleep. I should have just pushed through it.”
“You need to work through your demons how you see fit.” His gaze held mine. “Did it help?”
My burning insecurities had faded but not disappeared. So had my craving for a drink. “Yeah.”
“That’s good. Now you know something that can pull you out of that pit. I’d call that a win.”
“At your expense.”
He slowly shook his head. “Nope. Your success is my success.”
“Were you this nice to her?” I asked before I could stop myself.
He looked momentarily stunned, then he sighed. He knew who I was talking about. “I don’t know. Was I as attentive to her? No, I don’t think so. But I’d like to think she taught me a thing or two about being in a relationship.”
His answer surprised me, but I pushed on, asking the question that had been eating me alive since I’d figured out who she was. “If she showed up at your doorstep, begging you to give her another chance…would you?”
A frown creased his forehead. “That would never happen.”
“Maybe not,” I said, my voice catching. “But what if it did?”
His jaw tightened. “You’re asking hypotheticals, Harper. It’s a dead end.”
That was my answer. A sudden urge to cry burned behind my eyes.
He saw the shift in my face, got to his feet and stepped closer. He hit the stop button on the treadmill, then tugged me off until I stood in front of him.
“I’m a practical man,” he said, his voice low. “You’ve figured that out by now. I haven’t spent years replaying the possibility that she’d change her mind and come back.”
He cupped my face, and I cringed. I was soaked in sweat. It had to be gross. But he didn’t flinch. He just held my gaze, steady and unblinking.
“But if she came to me today,” he said softly, “if she walked through that door right now and asked to be with me … I’d say no.”
“You have to say that,” I whispered, hating who I was right now. Hating that he could see how much this hurt.
His mouth tipped up into a small, humorless smirk. “You know me well enough to know I’m not compelled to say anything I don’t mean.” He leaned in, close enough that his breath warmed my cheek. “Honesty. Remember? I meant it when I made that promise. I need you to believe me.”
“I do,” I whispered, desperate to look away but afraid it would feel like losing.
“It’s you I want, Harper Adams.” His voice roughened. “Someone who understands me and my world. A partner who isn’t afraid to get messy.” His mouth tipped. “And last week, after we were run off the road? That was pretty damn messy.”
Messy was one word for killing nearly a dozen men.
“No one’s ever fought for me like that, Harper,” he said, almost a whisper. “Do you have any idea what that means to me?”
“It wasn’t a decision, James,” I said. “I just … did it.”
“You could’ve run off into the woods and saved yourself.” His gaze held mine. “But you knew I couldn’t run. You stayed and fought for me.”
We’d promised honesty, so I forced myself to be vulnerable. “Yes,” I said, my voice fierce. “And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
His eyes burned. “I want you, Harper.”
I closed my eyes and dragged in a breath, hating that I was becoming so damn needy. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey.” He brushed my check with his thumb until I opened my eyes.
“Don’t apologize,” he said softly. “We’re both workin’ through a tangle of things we’re not used to feeling.” One brow lifted. “And you’re lucky I know Limp Dick never really meant much to you or we’d be dealing with a whole different mess right now.”
I snorted, shaking my head.
His expression sobered. “I’m not sorry for my time with her. I learned things. I’d like to think it helped get me where I am now.”
“We both have a past,” I said, swallowing hard. “And it’s weird that I’m thirty-six years old and have never been in love. Your past loves shouldn’t bother me.” I met his eyes. “I just worry I’m not enough.”
“You’re everything I need.”
“You need an alcoholic with major insecurity and mommy-and-daddy issues?” I asked wryly.
“If that comes with the package of the sharp, stubborn, tough-as-hell woman standing in front of me, then yes. That’s exactly what I need.”
“I need you too,” I whispered.
A slow grin spread across his face. “How hard was that for you admit?”
“Harder than it should have been.”
“We’ll work on that.” He kissed me, tender and steady. “Do you need to run more, or are you ready to go upstairs?”
“I’m ready.”
He dropped his hands from my face, then grabbed a rolled towel from on top of the refrigerator.
I took it and wiped my face. “You must have it bad for me if you still want me after seeing me a sweaty, red-faced mess, not to mention, I must stink.”
He pulled me close, wrapping his arm around my back. “I want you bad, Harper,” he said in a husky tone that sent shivers down my spine.
And in that moment, I believed him, mess and all.
I wondered if I should tell him that I’d figured out who his girlfriend had been, but if he wanted me to know, he would have told me. No need to lay it out. Her identity didn’t change anything.
We headed upstairs and showered together, then climbed into bed, no sex involved. As I drifted off, it hit me that this was more intimate than if we’d gone three rounds. Moments like this were the foundation of a relationship.
And, at least for now, I let myself want one with him.